


Everything he isn't

by marmolita



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angry Sex, Angst, Booty Calls, Episode: s01e10 Nelson v. Murdock, Episode: s01e11 The Path of the Righteous, F/M, Missing Scene, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4275609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The missing scene between when Foggy leaves Matt's apartment at the end of Nelson v Murdock and when he wakes up in Marci's bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything he isn't

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/725.html?thread=596181#cmt596181) on the kinkmeme for Foggy/Marci awesome angry sex.

Foggy leaves Matt's apartment and starts walking. His entire world has been turned upside-down, and after so many hours of worrying if Matt was even going to live, then so many hours of trying to piece back together the reality of the last few years, his mind and body are both numb and exhausted.

He should sleep. He should go home, dig through his fridge for the leftover pizza that's been in there since Saturday, get some food in his belly, and sleep.

Or maybe he should drink. He could stop by Josie's and drink an entire bottle of scotch, maybe two. Maybe then he would just pass out and not have to deal with lying awake, alone in his bed, trying to pick over every time in the last five years that he'd said anything at all untrue to Matt, or every time that Matt gave him some bullshit excuse for why he had bruises on his face or his knuckles, or every time that Matt didn't pick up his fucking phone.

Josie's would just remind him of Matt, though, so he turns the other direction and just walks. It's around 9pm when he realizes he's walked all the way to the Upper West Side -- actually, he's just down the street from Marci's apartment, and hey, if there's one thing that will not remind him of Matt, it's Marci. Foggy pulls out his phone and gives her a call.

They meet at a classy bar not far from her place, where Foggy is massively underdressed; his income is far too low to support a habit of drinking $25 cocktails. He gets one anyway while he's waiting for her -- something with absinthe in it, because he figures it will be potent enough that he can get drunk without needing a whole bottle.

He's most of the way through his drink when Marci flounces in, drops into the armchair across from him (because it's one of _those_ bars), and says, "You look like shit."

"Thanks, Marci, that's exactly what I wanted to hear." Foggy knocks back the rest of his drink, because he's sure she's right. He _feels_ like shit. Marci, of course, looks amazing as always.

He signals the server and orders another drink, plus a martini for Marci. She pulls a compact from her purse to check her makeup, then sits back and crosses her legs. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"You don't really want me to talk about it."

She shrugs. "No, I was just being polite. You don't want to talk about it anyway, or you would have called Matt, not me." He flinches at the sound of Matt's name, and her mouth shapes into a moue of distaste. "Trouble in paradise?"

Foggy sighs and puts his head in his hands. "I thought you didn't want to hear about it."

"You're right, I don't." The server comes back with their drinks, and Foggy gratefully takes a long swig of his. Marci changes the subject, telling him about the great bakery she found near her office, the new exhibit at the Met, and how much she loves her secretary.

By the time they head back to her place, Foggy is close to being as drunk as he wanted to be. Marci had cut him off, because, "This is a booty call, right? I need you to not be so drunk you can't perform." Probably for the best, because he's drunk enough that everything is fuzzy and he's stumbling a little bit, but not so drunk that he's at risk of getting sick. When Marci turns to put her key in the door, he can see through the gap between buttons in her shirt straight to her lacy blue bra. Yeah, casual sex is sounding pretty good right now.

As soon as they're through the door, Foggy pushes her back up against it, hands on her hips and mouth on her neck. Marci hums a little under her breath and drops her purse onto the table she keeps by the door. Marci may be a lot of things, not all of them good, but she's always been honest with him. She's easy to understand; she's reliable; she's everything that Matt isn't. Thinking about Matt again makes Foggy angry, not just at Matt but at himself for thinking Matt couldn't possibly be keeping secrets from him. He scrapes his teeth over Marci's throat.

Her hands come up toward his hair, but he catches them and pins them against the wall, pulling back and looking at her to see how she's going to react.

"Must have been some fight you and Matt had."

"Yeah."

"Looks like he really pissed you off. Are you angry, Foggy Bear?"

He rolls his hips against hers slowly, grinding her into the door. "Yeah, I am."

Marci tilts her head back, exposing a long stretch of the smooth skin of her neck. "Good. Just don't mess up my clothes," she murmurs. "These cost a fortune."

It's a little bit of a blur after that, lips clashing together hard enough to knock teeth, his hands up her skirt as they stumble through the hall to the bedroom, her fingers fumbling with the buttons on her blouse.

By the time he picks her up by the hips and drops her onto the side of the bed, the expensive clothes are lying in a trail across her apartment. Marci is gorgeous like this, hair mussed and cheeks pink, breathing hard and hurrying to get out of her panties. Foggy gets the rest of his own clothes off, then leans over her, sucking one hard nipple into his mouth and rubbing his thumb across the other. _Damn_ , Marci has a great rack, and it's nearly enough to make him forget about all his problems right there. He can't get too caught up in the soft curves of her breasts though because she's rubbing herself against his thigh, hot and wet and ready, and her hand is curling around his dick.

He spares a moment to grab a condom from her drawer, then he's pushing her down onto the bed, two fingers sliding easily into her. Her hips jerk up to meet him, and he works her over hard, rubbing her clit with one hand while he fucks her with the other. "Will you just," she breathes between moans, "get on with it?"

"With what?" he asks, twisting his fingers inside her so that she cries out loud enough to piss off her neighbors.

"Just put your fucking dick in me already, asshole."

He laughs, but does what she says. She's hot and tight and he has to ease in slowly at first, but it's not long before she loosens up a little and he can pick up a rhythm, hard and fast and perfect for shoving everything else out of his mind. He can go a long time like that, especially with some liquor in him and a condom, and he gets her off twice in two different positions before he finally comes, fingers tight around her hips, slamming into her from behind while the screams from her last orgasm die off.

A few hours later, after two more rounds of sex, an entire bottle of wine to maintain his buzz, and a couple of really angry neighbors banging on the walls, Foggy is finally too exhausted to think about Matt anymore. Tomorrow he's going to have to face reality, but right now Marci is soft and warm and _here_ , and he curls up around her and falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Ceebee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ceebee) for beta!


End file.
